Tradeja Backpacks

Let's suppose that you and a friend are going on a backpacking trip. You park the car at the trailhead and start up the trail. You're headed for a beautiful camping spot just eight miles up the trail. It's just below timberline, on a narrow grassy spot between a line of trees and a thousand-foot cliff, with a beautiful view of blue lakes below and the mountains forty miles away on the other side of the valley.

As you climb the trail, you start puffing and panting. It's hard work climbing uphill with all that heavy gear. You're a mile or two into it, when you look behind you and see another hiker gaining on you. As he comes closer, he greets you and starts talking with you. You can't help but notice how trim and fit he is. He's tanned just enough to look healthy, he's got a beautiful face, and his muscles -- well, it's obvious that he's done this trail before. If you're a girl, you wish you could hike beside him all day. If you're a guy, you wish you could have a set of muscles like his.

He says, "Where are you headed?"

You describe the campsite, and he says, "Oh, yeah. That's one of the most beautiful spots along the trail. It's one of my favorites. I've camped there before."

Although you shouldn't be surprised, you say "You have?"

And he answers "Oh, sure. I've climbed over all these hills. My dad owns all this land, or he used to before he turned it over to the Park Service."

As you walk along together, you can't help comparing his equipment to your own. You have one of those old rectangular roll-up sleeping bags, and his sleeping bag is this tiny little thing that squishes into a stuff bag a quarter the size of yours. His space-age gear must weigh less than half what your stone-age gear weighs, and it all fits inside his pack, instead of dangling and swinging from the outside like so much of your gear does.

While you lurch and stagger up the trail, he strides confidently beside you, keeping up the conversation and barely even breaking a sweat. If it weren't for all that lurching and staggering, you could probably really enjoy his company, as he points out and names all the birds and wildflowers you pass, and shares the delights of a blueberry patch with you.

After a while, he says to you, "Tradeja backpacks."

You give him a funny look and ask, "What did you say?"

He says, "I said, tradeja backpacks. I've noticed that you're having some trouble with yours. My gear's a lot lighter, and I can carry yours without getting tired or winded."

You say something like, "No, this is my gear. I packed it myself, and I want to carry it."

He replies, "Look. I know where you're going. I'm going right past there, so it's not out of my way. I know what the trail is like between here and there. I've walked it hundreds of times, with backpacks heavier than yours, so I know what you're going through. I can tell you're having trouble already, and I can warn you that the trail's going to get harder before it gets easier. Let me carry your backpack as far as your campsite, and then if you want it back, I'll give it back."

You're wavering, but not yet convinced.

He tries again. "Look. We can make it a permanent trade. My pack and gear are the best gear money can buy. They're the only gear you'll ever need. I can always get more, my dad's rich. Let me take all this heavy stuff and get rid of it for you. You can't lose! This is something I want to do."

You've all stopped walking. You look at his shoulder straps, as you feel your shoulder straps digging in. You ask him, "Why?"

He says, "Because I can. And because I want to. I want you to succeed, and I want you to reach your goal. That's all."

So what are you going to do?

Created by Ray Depew, 12 February, 2001
Last edited by Ray Depew, 1 August, 2007

© 2001 by Ray Depew. May be copied or reproduced for personal use only. Do not copy on paper or electronically for the purpose of wider distribution without the author's express permission. Do not sell copies.